


Regular Office Hours

by kuro49



Series: 200 subs promptathon of 2020 [3]
Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Face-Fucking, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22591945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: Professor Wilson's office is located at the end of the hall, almost isolated from the rest of the history department. It's small and cramped, and the air is always suffocatingly warm.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Slade Wilson
Series: 200 subs promptathon of 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622572
Comments: 9
Kudos: 145





	Regular Office Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inihiu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inihiu/gifts).



> i like that under-desk blowjobs is a common tag. there is a lot more build up than anticipated and it turned out much longer than expected but i feel like this is how all my "200" words drabble is turning out 😂 
> 
> originally posted to [tumblr](https://setsailslash.tumblr.com/post/190675456691/for-the-200-prompt-a-ton-uni-au-sladejay-someone) and brushed up.

Professor Wilson doesn’t host office hours, made it quite clear during that very first lesson when he didn’t even show up.

Well, that wasn’t entirely correct, the man does show up for all of two minutes. Scans the lecture hall for one of those minutes before gesturing for the young man standing by the door in a worn red hoodie and dark wash jeans to take over. Dark hair, blue eyes, he looks like he could be any one of the fifty undergraduates sitting among the classroom.

“I’m here to teach, not deal with any of your other bullshit, that’s his problem. Any questions you’ve got, you go to _Jason_ here.” 

The man's voice is booming, carries in the room even without a mic.

And then Professor Wilson is gone, and his class is left with a TA standing at the front of the lecture hall, looking like he’s been through this many times before.

Jason hosts his own office hours for the class. Runs twice weekly, and is willing to accommodate the students as needed if he gets an email in advance.

He isn't overtly friendly. The graduate student tends to be more reserved in manner, keeps to himself mostly, but he's got patience that most TAs don't bother with. He has a designated spot in the history department, but is more often than not found working on his Master’s thesis with his laptop on the corner of Professor Wilson’s desk and all the loose sheets of his notes resting in the second chair next to him.

So when a student goes into the history department offices hoping to turn in a late essay and doesn’t find the TA he’s looking for, he goes knocking at Professor Wilson’s office tucked at the end of hall, almost isolated from the rest of the department.

“Come in.”

It’s not Jason’s voice, or him kicking over a stack of reference text books next to his chair on the way to the door. 

A turn of the brass knob, a push in compliance, and the door opens with a soft creak.

When the student looks, it’s Professor Wilson sitting behind his desk. It’s not quite a surprise, this _is_ the man’s office after all. It still feels like one to see the imposing professor up close under the warm sunlight coming in from the windows instead of the harsh fluorescent white of the classroom lights when he’s halfway across the wide span of the lecture hall.

“I am looking for Jason.”

“Kid’s busy.” Professor Wilson tells him, shifting to sit back in his chair while it groans beneath his weight. The man shifts again. “You want something from him?”

“My essay," he holds it out between them, "I sent him an email earlier and he told me I could hand it in to him during his office hours today.” 

The man leans forward and takes it from him. The chair creaks a second time. “I’ll pass it on. You got a good reason why it’s late?”

“Family emergency. Jason is aware.”

A flip of the first few pages, and the sound feels louder than it should be in the suffocatingly small room. Professor Wilson looks up from the pages of the essay and it’s unnerving to have the full weight of that gaze settling over him. 

“You’ve got a lot of those, don’t you?”

A lead filled pause, and Professor Wilson smirks like he’s caught his student in a lie. The man looks like he found the answer he’s looking for even when he doesn’t get a response from his student standing still in place. It's an uneasy balance wobbling at the base. The silence is stretched out like a taut pull, and Professor Wilson puts down the essay over the close lid of Jason’s laptop tucked neatly into the corner of his wide oak desk.

The chair just beyond looking still warm at the seat, Jason’s jacket draped over the back of it.

“You got something else for my TA?”

“No. I will see myself out.” A shrug of his bag a little higher over his shoulders, a scan of the empty quiet room once more and he turns to leave.

Just before the door closes behind him, Professor Wilson calls out:

“See you in class, Damian.”

The air is warm where the office is small, is cramped.

When the door closes behind Damian Wayne, Slade pushes his chair back that very last inch of space behind him to look down at his lap and asks. “Just about done fucking around, kid?”

The man’s got his TA using his thigh for a pillow while Jay is lazily mouthing at the base of his cock, standing painfully hard and straining for a warm wet hole to fuck into.

“How ‘bout you?” Jason answers with a question of his own, glancing up at Slade from beneath his lashes, cheek brushing at the shaft. His tongue peeks out, looking all soft and pink from between the shiny red seam of his parted mouth. There is a glimmer of amusement in those blue-green eyes when he knows exactly the obscene picture he makes. “Are _you_ done fuckin’ around with your students?”

Each word comes out on a faint puff of breath over every last place his tongue left wet with spit. Reminds Slade precisely what a tease the kid can be when he wants to, and Jason most certainly wanted to when he ducked under the desk just before the start of his office hours if only because he wants to play a very risky game on university grounds.

“Hardly.” Slade tells him, reaching down with one hand to grip Jason by the hair at the nape of his neck, gives him those short brief seconds that he needs to reset himself properly on his knees before he is pressing the head of his cock against those lips.

Jason resists for all of two seconds before he is opening up all too easily to the intrusion, whines long and low for it too with his jaw going slack.

From the tip of his tongue to the back of his throat, Slade slides the thick head of his cock over the flat of Jason’s tongue, makes him really savour the salty bitter taste of his precum as he holds it there until Jason is forced to swallow tightly around it.

“You _know_ I’m just getting started.”

Spit gathers as Slade presses down, dragging his cock across the hard palate of Jason’s mouth and then the soft, watching how Jason hollows his cheek to suck at the measured amount of cock that Slade feeds him. It's a messy wet sound that slips out as the kid tries to work his tongue under the hard length, his mouth relaxing again out of habit as his thesis advisor finally fills his throat like he's been asking for all day.

And then Slade starts to fuck his face in earnest.


End file.
